


All the troubles you put me through ...

by NairobiWonders



Series: Take me to the river [1]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Gen, Hypothermia, Platonic Joanlock - Freeform, at least for the moment, naked but platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8157386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: Beanarie made this request....*bangs fist on table*where is my fic of joan & sherlock cuddling for warmth in their undies because skin to skin is the best way to prevent hypothermiaThere are other wonderful replies to B's request (see below) as well as the one she wrote herself which I'm sure will be posted here soon enough, right?As usual, I'm late to the party ...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beanarie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanarie/gifts).



"Hold my coat, please."

"Why? What are you doing? ... Wait! ... Sherlock! Stop!" 

He wasn't listening. Having handed Watson his peacoat and jacket, Sherlock waded into the creek. He winced as the ice cold water bit into his calves but continued moving forward, calling over his shoulder, "That backpack is evidence. There's a good chance the current will sweep it away if we don't get it now ..." Some thing gave way beneath the water and he stumbled, disappearing below the surface.

"Sherlock! Dammit!" Joan jumped forward, unzipping her parka, fully intent on going in after him.

He bopped up to the surface, wiping the water off his face and lunging to grab the backpack.

"Forget the pack, get out of there this instant!" Joan yelled and stomped her foot. 

He slogged back to the shore dripping wet but with the evidence in hand. Sherlock shivered and smiled at the look on her face, "That was invigorating."

"You're an idiot! That water is freezing and you ..." She unwound the scarf from her neck, "... you are not physically equipped for the cold." She draped the grey wool scarf over his head and angrily attempted to dry his hair and face. "You've no fat, no insulation..." Joan kept scolding as she toweled his head with the scarf; her voice was trembly with what she would say was cold but he knew was fear. Sherlock, for her sake, did not protest and stood childlike, head bent, shaking with cold, letting her vent. His cotton shirt was plastered against his skin and the late afternoon breeze cut through him. He shivered uncontrollably. 

His almost convulsive shaking stopped her admonishments. Pity registered across her face, "Here, quick. Take off that shirt and put this on." 

Joan held out his jacket for him to put on. His numb fingers fumbled with the shirt buttons. Joan took over and undid the shirt for him, helping him peel it away from his body. He shook even more as he put on the jacket, the silken lining clinging to his damp skin.

"What were you thinking..." Joan stopped scolding long enough to take a good look at him. He was trembling, his eyes as large as marbles, his face a pale white. Joan took his knit hat from his coat pocket and, on tiptoes, placed it on his head, pulling it down to his eyebrows. She adjusted and fiddled with it trying to make sure his ears were well covered. 

"It's alright, Watson!" He finally had enough. "The car is a half mile walk from here... I'll be fun ... Fine, mean fine not fun... Although I be could be fun I suppose...."

He was rambling, his breathing was off and his speech was slightly slurred. All symptoms of the onset of hypothermia. She needed to get him to the car as soon as possible. Her fear and anger squelched, she brought out her doctor persona, "You're right. You're right ... Let's get your coat on..." She held his peacoat up and he slipped his arms into it. "Ready?" She took his elbow and he didn't protest. She picked up the sodden backpack to carry and again he didn't protest. She took note and pointed him in the direction of their vehicle. 

"The m...m...m..main road was just a few miles down from where we left the .. Uh, you know.... The uhm... " He gestured vaguely. "We might be able to get cell c.. c.. coverage there.... let Gregson know what's going on...."

The walk took a little longer than expected; Sherlock walked slowly. Joan watched him, tried to keep track of his breathing... tried not to panic. She needed to get him to the safety of the car. She needed to get help.

The car's doors slammed shut, one after the other and Joan placed the key in the ignition. His shivering had slowed down as had his verbalizing. The key turned in the ignition, the engined groaned and whined and then nothing. She tried several more times. Nothing. The car was dead.

"Ba.. battery." Sherlock muttered through chattering teeth.

She did a quick assessment of the situation. Whatever the reason for the car not starting, she didn't have time to diagnose or fix. It was more than likely the battery. They had no cell service out here; calling for rescue or repair was not an option. Sherlock definitely showed symptoms of hypothermia. Night was falling and it was going to get colder. Walking was not an option. She couldn't leave him alone. 

Joan turned and looked at him. He seemed to be oblivious to the situation. He stared straight ahead, the occasional shudder shaking his body.

"Sherlock.... Sherlock look at me."

He turned his head with owl-like slowness. "Hmm?"

"I want you to get into the backseat of the car and take off all your clothes. Do you understand?"

He stared at her for a second trying to process what she said, before his eyebrows went up in understanding. "Watson, really? This seems hardly the time to initiate intercourse. N..not that I minds but, y' know, c.. c... cold... " He pointed to his crotch. "But I can give it a t..t..try ..."

Joan was amused and concerned. He seemed to be sincere in his belief that she was asking him for sex. He was not trying to be funny. His lack of understanding of their situation was completely out of the norm for him. 

"Sherlock, look at me. I think you are in the mid-stages of hypothermia. We are stuck here for awhile and I need to get your body temperature back up to normal. Get in the back, take off your wet clothes. I think there is a blanket in the trunk under the spare tire. I'll go get that while you disrobe."

"Ah, of course." He said the words and nodded. She doubted he understood, but bless him, he did as he was told.

Joan retrieved the old blanket from the trunk. She was now shivering with cold. Night was falling and the temperature was dropping. The blanket was grimy, smelled of gasoline and dirt but it was heavy and dry. She opened the back door to find him bare-chested, fumbling with his belt. 

"I seem to have lost the ability to ..." he wiggled his fingers at her with a rather forlorn look on his face. "You know... use these."

"It's okay. Lie down." She got in and moved beside him thankful she was small enough to maneuver in the cramped area. His eyes fluttered closed. Joan felt panic begin to rise and she began talking to calm herself and reassure him. "I'm just going take your pants off." She undid the belt, and reached for his pants zipper. 

His eyes opened as she pulled down then zipper and started trying to pull off his pants. "Really, Watson, what will the children think ..." He mumbled and watched through half-closed eyes as she struggled to get the wet, tight pants off him. 

She smiled at him beside herself. "The children are in bed. We need to get these off you and get you warmed up, okay?" 

He raised his hips and helped the pant and underwear removal process along and then lay completely still, eyes partially open. His breathing was shallow and his pulse weak. He was clammy and white as a sheet. Tears began to cloud her vision. She fought them off with a deep breath, swallowed the lump in her throat and forged ahead.

Drawing on her training, she attempted to keep a clinical mindset. This was not her friend and partner lying naked before her, this was a man in need of the best care she could provide. She covered his legs, his feet in particular, with his peacoat.

He watched her with a dazed interest. "I'm going to take off my clothes because you know, well ... skin to skin is the best way to raise and maintain body heat, right?" She took her parka off and placed it so that the hood covered his head and neck. 

Sherlock watched as she quickly took off the rest of her clothes. To her surprise there was no embarrassment on her part, or his, as far as she could tell. If she felt anything, it was fear. What if she couldn't get his body temperature up sufficiently? It would be a cold long night and she doubted anyone would be looking for them.

"Okay, I'm going to lay on top of you. I know that's a little weird, huh... " she kept a steady monologue going as she moved her body over his. "There ... my legs are now on top of yours. God, your legs are freezing." She lay her bare thighs over his. He lay still. She had considered placing her thin blouse over his genitals for modesty's sake but she doubted he would care and at this moment, she certainly did not. She lowered her hips on to his; no reaction. "I'm going to lay on top of you and we are going to keep each other warm okay?" She eased herself over his chest, taking the nasty blanket and covering them both. Joan adjusted the parka hood so his head was covered and laid her head on his chest close to his neck. His breathing was slow but his heart beat had steadied. 

"There... See ... Not bad at all... What do you think..." She waited. No reaction. She wiggled just slightly on top of him. "Come on Sherlock, I thought I'd rate a least an excited shiver or two," she whispered to herself. Again, no reaction. 

The desperateness of it all suddenly overwhelmed her. Alone, freezing and naked in the middle of nowhere .... she might lose him tonight. She burrowed her head into his neck and cried softly.

His left arm moved slowly from his side and came up around her. She felt his ice cold hand come to rest on her back. Her heart leapt and she squeezed him tight. 

"That's it. That's my Sherlock. We'll get through this one way or another." She picked her head up to look at his face. His eyes were partially open and he looked at her, "We always do..." He whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a Talking Heads song, "Take me to the river" (not sure anyone knows David Byrne anymore). 
> 
> "Take me to the water, drop me in the river  
> Push me in the water, drop me in the river  
> Washing me down, washing me down
> 
> I don't know why I love you like I do  
> All the troubles you put me through"


End file.
